


"Structures Red: a Curosa", by The Squip

by Sedusa



Series: Be More Chill one-shots [13]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: ... maybe not squint. It's probably very obvious., Also Godhead will become a fanon name if it fucking KILLS me, Burns, Consensual Kink, Erotica, Godhead as the name of Jeremy Heere's Squip, If you squint you'll see how I headcanon Rich as ADHD and Jeremy's Squip as autistic, Internalized Transphobia, Jeremy Heere's Squip Has a Body, Like. They’re an established relationship and know actual limits, M/M, Moses as the name of Rich Goranski's Squip, Nude Photos, OT4, Photography, Polyamory, Reformed Squip(s), Rich briefly deadnames himself, Robot/Human Relationships, Rope Bondage, Scars, Shibari, Soft Rich Goranski, Spicy Squippy Bi's OT4, The Squip pushes a boundary but it’s consensual in context, Trans Male Character, Trans Rich Goranski, gender euphoria, trans smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:21:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24536905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sedusa/pseuds/Sedusa
Summary: Naturally, unintentionally, Godhead smiled. The sight seemed to make Rich’s cheeks burn, and he looked down, flexing his toes rhythmically. Godhead’s chuckle was breezy and surprisingly gentle. “You’re like a living sculpture, Goranski. Our relationship is fulfilling.”“... wha?” Rich said, blinking.“I’m attracted to you.”His blush expanded from cheeks to collarbone. Rich squirmed like he wanted to bury his face in his hands, but he knew better than to let go of the rope. “Oh my God…”Rich and Godhead get along together like two peas in a quad.
Relationships: Jeremy Heere/Rich Goranski/Jeremy Heere's Squip/Rich Goranski's Squip, Rich Goranski/Jeremy Heere's Squip
Series: Be More Chill one-shots [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1105041
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	"Structures Red: a Curosa", by The Squip

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vanceypants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanceypants/gifts).



> bondage is pretty
> 
> (lore for the names Godhead and Moses will be explained... eventually. definitely not today tho lmaoooooo)

“--well, I _am_ Japanese.”

Dim lighting painted Rich’s front in an apricot tone, the slim folds of his skin fading to a deep black where the singular table lamp’s glow couldn’t reach. Rope was looping between his thighs, the hemp a deep, blood red, a tone contrasting the softness of Rich’s carnation scarring as it slid against him. As Godhead pulled his left leg up and behind him, most of the details faded away; it was positioned in a single line across the horizon, fitted in perfect knots away from the light, behind him.

His weight was hung effortlessly from a bar Godhead had rented for this singular hotel night. It was a pain getting it in here and properly constructed under an uneasy staff’s eyes, but, oh, as he stepped back to survey, he could already tell the results would be _worth it_. 

He pulled a camera from his pocket, taking a quick shot with seeming carelessness before folding it back inside. An unexpected present, this digital lens was light, slim, and extremely fancy; Jeremy had bought it for him on a “birth” day celebration he didn’t know they’d be celebrating. His budding interest in photography was solidified as a true ‘hobby’ then, allowing him an instant catalog of all his favorite tiny moments, expanding to his interest in the art form of it. He considered grabbing the Polaroid for another shot, an investment of his own, but decided to wait on that--he wasn’t done, after all. 

Rich’s torso was still mostly unbound, his breasts hanging free with the rise and fall of his chest as he held himself up with another rope dangling from above him. The tips of his right toes against the floor were hardly enough to hold him, so, truthfully, Goranksi’s remarkable upper-body strength was the only thing preventing him from critical damage to the nerves in his legs. Were he to fall forward and let those pretty little knots cut into critical pressure points, he’d need immediate medical care.

But Godhead didn’t feel he needed to worry about that, even as he prepared to relieve the pressure. Rich’s arms had wrapped themselves into the fabric, pulling the muscles tautly, jutting the veins outward. Every inch of them conveyed the years of weight lifting and sports regime he’d undergone during his Squipped years.

Still; bondage, beautiful as it was, could be quite dangerous. Moses had been very, very wary about handing over his Sunshine for the sake of Godhead’s artistic vision, but Rich had said he trusted him, which melted the hesitation instantly. 

He intended not to break that trust. Stepping forward again, he grabbed another length of rope.

“But you’re not actually _Japanese_ Japanese, are you?” Rich’s voice came out breathy from extortion, yet his tone kept stable. It snapped Godhead back to their verbal discussion, which he’d lost in the beauty or the craft. “Er, that sounded wrong. I meant, like, that’s not your culture. You’re… uh, you don’t consider yourself a human, so--”

“Yes,” Godhead said, saving him from floundering as he slowly wrapped this long strip--it was hemp actually, very high quality--into the legs knot and upwards. “You’re right. Despite the race of my appearance and where I was manufactured, I don’t have an ethnicity the way you do. If I did, given where I was initialized and who my host is, I suppose it would be American.”

“Yeah. Yeah! Exactly. So… how come shibari?”

“Kinbaku, you mean.” Linguistically, or perhaps technically, the correction wasn’t any more or less accurate. They were in America, practicing a very personalized aesthetic, which meant just enough Western preferences leaked in and sullied the cultural purity. If he were to show the form afterward to any judges (or Moses), it wouldn’t pass as traditional anything.

Still, it was the technique that Godhead modeled after tonight regardless. Given that shibari had become the slang for its softcore artform in English speaking countries, that made the intimately sexual, hardcore ‘kinbaku’ genre _slightly_ more accurate, colloquially.

After all, Godhead had _every_ intention to fuck Richard like this.

“Kinbaku, keikaku, bukkake, whatever, you know what I mean.”

“I… those don’t rhyme.”

“So?”

“...” He crossed over Rich’s chest until the rope was around both breasts. The white and red of skin meeting fabric mixed pleasantly with the pink of his nipples, mingling into the orange-brown tones in his freckles and a small amount of scarring that had extended even here. Godhead’s mouth pooled with artificial saliva as he bent forward, resting one hand on Rich’s hip. The other held up his right breast, as he took the swell of his soft flesh into his mouth.

Rich inhaled, a sharp “oh!”, and released it in a long moan. Goosebumps washed over the newly bound area; the sensation of skin rippling under Godhead’s touch made his cock throb. He pulled away, fingertips trailing along Rich’s skin again as he tested the ropes.

For a brief moment, they locked eyes. 

Naturally, unintentionally, Godhead smiled. The sight seemed to make Rich’s cheeks burn, and he looked down, flexing his toes rhythmically. Godhead’s chuckle was breezy and surprisingly gentle. “You’re like a living sculpture, Goranski. Our relationship is fulfilling.”

“... wha?” Rich said, blinking.

“I’m attracted to you.”

His blush expanded from cheeks to collarbone. Rich squirmed like he wanted to bury his face in his hands, but he knew better than to let go of the rope. “Oh my God…”

Godhead laughed again but didn’t respond. It was an odd feeling, being this emotive, but Rich always seemed to draw him out of his intense demeanor--despite (or perhaps in conjunction with) the Dominant headspace bondage naturally put him in.

He stepped away again, looking him over. The binding made a pleasing diamond pattern from Rich’s cunt to the top of his sternum, then looping over his shoulders; his breast size, something like a decent C-cup, were wrapped _just_ snug enough to seem fuller than before. The pressure to his flesh and veins would now magnify all sensation so that his nerves felt everything on hyperdrive. He reached forward, just barely grazing his nipples curiously, and Rich hissed softly.

Delightful.

All that was left now was to finish the arms. 

He grabbed the last piece of rope, which meant Rich no longer needed to exert the pressure to hold himself up. His weight fell on command, now supported chest-to-chest as Godhead leaned against him; he wiggled about, adjusting himself without the freedom of arms or legs until his face popped free from the ruffled fabric of his dress shirt to look up at him, his neck and chin resting flat as it craned up. Amazingly, or at least amusingly, he didn’t even reach Godhead’s pecs. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Godhead said, the levity back in his voice.

“How’s the weather up there?”

“Pleasant.”

Rich grinned, and then hissed again, sharper this time as a particular movement made his nipples rub against twill. “ _Fuck_ , this feels, like… like everything, all at once.”

Godhead raised an eyebrow. “Everything?”

“Yeah, like, uh. Shit,” he looked like he was struggling for an apt metaphor, his brow furrowed, “it’s... there’s a lot happening with the ol’ udders, right? So it feels like I’ve gone on some… magical, cartoony, racist caricature spirit journey or… something. Now I’ve become, like, _one with the protons_ , dude.” His foot was tapping against the floor at rapid speed. “I dunno what the fuck I’m talking about. It feels like this weird mixture of incredible and wrong.”

He had to finish tying what he was in the middle of before he could respond, but Godhead quietly contemplated the meaning of Rich’s spiel. Sometimes it could be hard to parse him out; processors crisscrossed as they trailed several strains of meaning, going round and round until his adjusted SQUIP coding felt he had a proper grip on the situation. 

Once his hands finished, the binding nearly complete now, he kept himself still. His voice came out as _gentle_ as he could make it, which was another inherent struggle. “Wrong enough you need to be let go?”

“Huh? Oh, no! No, it’s not really _bad_ ,” he said, and then looked off thoughtfully. “I guess it’s like… it’s such a New Sensation I’ve Never Felt Before that my mind’s still adjusting. I am _really_ into this though. I promise.”

Despite the position, his smile turned bashful, and he looked away. 

“... I kinda like that it feels like you’re hugging me right now. I know that’s unsexy and vanilla and stuff, but it’s… y’know. I’m gay and kinda boring.”

Godhead was quiet for a moment, frowning as his processors kicked up again. A moment later, Rich’s arms were done, pulled straight up and tied together. The strip Rich had to use to hold himself up had been worked in, woven together, and successfully braiding with the rest. Everything then attached seamlessly with the binding across his chest, which was in turn conjoined to that across his leg.

The second that was finished, he wrapped his arms around Richard, holding him gently.

“ _Oh_ ,” breathed Rich. Godhead felt a small portion of his fabric turn wet. “Oh.”

They stood intertwined for a long long. Soft silence was punctured by the occasional sniffling from Richard until, after the noises stopped and no more droplets came, Godhead pulled back.

“... shit, I g-guess you’re pretty gay too,” Rich mumbled, and the grin that followed filled the room. 

Ah. 

That’s why Moses treated him as Apollo and his chariot; the Sun itself was contained inside this smile.

“Yes, well.” Godhead ran his tie through his fingers. While his suit jacket itself was nowhere to be seen, he _always_ kept this on, a peculiar habit employed for his own ease of mind. “No.”

“No to what?” Rich asked, but Godhead ignored him. 

Now that the bondage was staged, he needed to find his focus. There were so many directions that could do this Olympian justice, but which was the _perfect_ one? He walked back to the table, grabbing the polaroid and sitting in the chair to concentrate. _Calculating... Calculating... Calculating…_

Calculation complete. 

It may have been a long time spent silently staring (Rich’s nervous squirming increasingly with every second), but when he found his angle, he _knew_. 

There were so many shots to take. Most were tame, a refinery process as he went through select views to find the best balances of color on his figure, the appeal of each roped section, etcetera. Others were more intimate, though; at one point, Rich found himself too giggly to hold _completely_ still, Godhead spreading his labia apart clinically and taking close-ups of his vaginal opening. “Your clitoris is very aesthetically pleasing, Richard.” 

The noise that came out of his mouth in response was very amusing.

Finally, a few more minutes and a few more Polaroids later, he put everything down again and gave another rare smile. It was mostly for himself, but he felt immense pride in this little hanging danseur. 

With a good chunk of the roll filled, he wouldn’t need to take any more shots. There was enough here for a full coffee tome on the beauty of his newest muse.

But the gallery was incomplete. The final shots required more than just the rope.

There was an emotion he had to capture in this contorted aesthetic. It was something that would act as the sealant to the paint. Like icing on a cake, or a ribbon around the box, there was _one_ more thing Godhead had to do:

Fuck Rich Goranski.

\--ah, but not immediately, of course.

His hands, like a spider and its legs, molded to Rich’s face as he cupped his cheek and jaw. Godhead leaned forward until their foreheads pressed together, and when he looked at him, it was with such _piercing_ intensity that Rich stared back with complete, awe-struck submission.

“ **Richard.** ” 

His voice was as divine as it was encompassing. Constructs like power fell to pieces under God’s words, the wrath of man a joke to His might. 

“ **Who do you belong to?** ”

Skin quivered under his touch. “Ah... Godhead.”

“ **Who?** ”

“ _Godhead._ ”

 _“_ **_Who?_ **”

“ _Godhead!_ ”

His tongue tasted like fire. The kiss hadn’t been planned, but he couldn’t help himself; Rich had as pretty a mouth as he did a loud one, and blending their flesh together so intimately felt appropriate for the scene. His hands slid down, down his neck and clavicle, separating diagonally until they hovered over both breasts and _squeezed_.

“A-ah--!” Rich’s whine turned into a moan that filled Godhead with confidence. He kneaded into him, fingers curling and twisting, manhandling him with seeming carelessness. “Oh…”

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Low amusement replacing his earlier Godly tone, as he pinched Rich’s nipples, pulling them up and letting them bounce free again. He nearly chuckled as little pleasurable, distressed, and pleasurably-distressed sounds came.

When Rich finally nodded, rendered momentarily silent, he let go of one of his breasts to pinch his chin and tilt it again. He nibbled against his bottom lip, not quite a kiss.

“ _Answer me,_ ” he cooed with a coy softness. He wasn’t the same sort of sadist that Moses was, and he rarely played like this, but Rich brought out a foreign carelessness to his demeanor. “Make sure you elaborate.”

“I… nn… this feels real f-fucking rocking, dude.” Rich mumbled out, his face a deep red and accompanied by some very _Jeremy_ mannerisms (the likeness made Godhead’s heart flutter like the hopeless romantic he clearly wasn’t). When he realized that wasn’t enough, he struggled to explain. “... you um. Your hands are real sweet sometimes, like… I-I don’t--um, like a butterfly on my tits or… that’s stupid. Uh. It’s just… I mean, it’s not always soft, obviously, you--ah!--y-you pinch, too, like right there, but it’s… like, it’s incredible. Really incredible. Really, totally, just… fuck, _grand,_ or something.” 

This one is reaching his limit of coherence. Godhead supposed sympathy was in order, and let him end on that. “Thank you. I strive to be like an insect. Perhaps more mantis then butterfly, yes, but--”

“W-wait. Wouldn’t you be a spider?”

Godhead paused. “... what?”

“As an insect.”

“Ah. Spiders are not--”

“Y-yeah, yeah, I know, but, like… words don’t always… o-okay, maybe they’re not insects, but they’re insect _enough_ , you know what I mean.”

“Hm.” He kissed the side of his mouth affectionately. “I do not.”

Rich whined, his tone sharp and frustrated. Godhead pulled back, mildly alarmed, watching as his expression twisted in several directions; as he opened his mouth to ask if he was alright, however--

“When you do this, you’re not, like--you don’t think of me as a girl, right? I’m not, like, Emily here, am I?”

His eyes were very large and very fearful, which caught Godhead completely off-guard. He stared at him for a moment, blinking, a few things running through his mind--all of which ended in question marks. “Emily… _who?_ ”  
“Emily as in…” Rich’s brow creased, but he shook his head. “Nevermind, I just--like--fuck, Godhead, I wanna know you think of me as me. I’m sorry, I’m really liking this a _lot,_ I like _you_ a lot, and I want you to… I don’t w-wanna just be some ditzy blond chick to you, I need--”

“Richard.” Godhead’s hands were up, stilling his voice. He could see a light shake to Rich’s feature, buzzing with anxiety and making him sway gently against his restraints. Shamefully, Godhead couldn’t help but admire how gorgeous he looked even at that moment, but he quickly locked it away.

His hands went to Rich’s sides, gripping him both gently and nonsexually. It was meant to be a vaguely hug-like squeeze, something of a comforting gesture. Lord knew Godhead had no idea how to truly calm people, except maybe in the right kinky conditions--well. As long as they were Jeremy and a cock acted as valid emotional motivation, anyway.

“No. I don’t think of you as a girl.”

“... really?” God, could his eyes _be_ any bigger?

“Really. I promise you, I’m not interested in any women. I’m dating three _men_ one of whom has a… misgendering fetish, I suppose, but he’s also a masturbating pervert and does not count.” Godhead could imagine Jeremy punching his arm for a lot of the things he’d thought or said tonight, and smiled.

Thankfully, Rich giggled. The action made Godhead notice the corners of his eyes had prickled with tears again. Alarming; he twisted at his tie briefly, but let Rich speak for himself. “O-okay. I… I guess I can believe you, then,” he sniffled. “Can you, um, can you wipe my eyes? I want to keep going! It’s just… God, there’s all this sensation, and it’s so good but so nerve-wracking, and I guess I just needed some reassurance.” 

Godhead wiped his eyes gently. With a handkerchief from his breast pocket, he cradled his nose and let him blow it. 

“Th-thank you. I needed that.” When he smiled up again, there was a renewed confidence in him. “We can keep going now if that’s okay. I… like, honestly, I’m still all hot and bothered, man. I want you.”

 _Oh,_ there were so many gentle emotions gumming up Godhead’s processors now. “Do you?” He tossed the tissue towards the table. “That’s more than alright, Richard. Let’s move on from your breasts before extended containment wears you out.” He gave another rare smile, moving positions. “There’s too much I want here to stop at foreplay.”

“ _Oh!_ ” Squeak. Rich bounced as his cunt was cupped, Godhead next to his side; bending to kiss the rim of his ear, he fondled his labia casually, clit big enough that all of Godhead’s movements ground against it. “Holy _shit._ ” 

“Good?” The entertainment in his voice was endless, and Rich shivered. 

“ _Really_ good,” he agreed, breathing shallow. The more pressure applied, the more his eyes slipped closed, a whimper turning to moan--

Only for everything to snap open again as Godhead pulled his hand back completely. “H-hey! What--”

“Tell me you deserve this.”

That was a new one on Rich, clearly. “... huh?” 

When Godhead initially said nothing, he blinked, looking at him from the corner of his eye.

“Why?”

Godhead shook his head, tweaking one of his nipples and making him whine. “Don’t ask me pointless questions. I want to hear you admit that you deserve to feel good.”

“... b-but…” Rich seemed at a loss, looking around wildly as if he expected a camera to come out and reveal that this was just some strange trap. How did the conversation escape him this much? “... no-- _eep_!”

He’d been spanked. Light, so much lighter then it could’ve been, but still a spank. “Come on, it isn’t hard. Just say it.”

“I… dude, I don’t--ahh!” 

Another one. He whipped his head towards Godhead, brow furrowed as if he was offended. “F-fine! Shit, I… I deserve… you’re not _really_ going to make me-- _OW_ , okay, alright, I get it, Jesus!” He wiggled like an offended snake, body swinging where it didn’t smack into Godhead. He huffed confusion (but not agitation) in his voice. 

“I’ll cooperate, Handsy McDracula, just… just give me a second.”

Godhead paused his spanking and pinching and general movement, all of which he’d been doing as Rich spoke. He waited silently, happily, as Rich took a deep breath.

“O… kay. I… argh, you’re _just_ like Moses sometimes, I… okay. Um.” He closed his eyes.

“I d-deserve this.”

“You deserve... what, exactly?”

Oh, if looks could kill. Rich didn’t argue, though, looking forward again. “I d-deserve… your, uh, your hands. Like, on my clit. And… uh. My pleasure? Like… fuck, dude, I deserve to be fingered and orgasm and what the fuck ever, I’m good and pretty or handsome or a boy or, just, Christ, you’re a real piece of work, dangling these fucking therapy tools over my--ohhh holyfuckingshit, oh my god, ohmygodohmygodohmy _god_ \--”

Godhead had snuck behind him in the middle of that argument, kneeling to begin licking at his cunt. He meant to _ust_ finger him, but… well. He DID deserve it, after all. Still, he pulled his tongue back as he spoke. “Keep talking, Richard. Tell me what a good boy you are. You deserve this because you’re so good. Right? I want you to hear you go on and on until you start actually believing it.”

“F-fuck,” Rich whimpered and (presumably) nodded frantically. “Okay, okay, as long as you keep going, I--shit, alright, um, I…”

Godhead heard him take a deep breath. He clearly didn’t want this to stop, which meant he had to sike himself and his self-rejection up for it. “I’m a good boy.” 

It was a simple start, but still something. The words would come easier later. “I’m a, uh. I’m a _really_ good boy… fuck, this is silly, b-but… um…”

Satisfied he’d take this seriously, Godhead got back to work. He moved around Rich’s vulva and labia in curious prodding, grazing ginger-blond pubic hair with a cold nose and fluttery fingers. This _good boy_ tasted _incredible_. Godhead was sure he could lose himself in it.

“Oh my _God,_ don’t stop, holy fuck--really, don’t, d-don’t stop because I--like, I deserve this. I love this. I deserve this because I l-love this because I love y-… I… I’m a g-good boy, I’m handsome and talented and, uh, worthwhile and--Jesus fucking _Christ_ holy _fuck_ are all of you built to be cunning fuckin linguists? Fuck, fuck, _uck_ , yes, alright, I love me, I _love_ me, I’ll love me all _FUCKING_ day if I get to cum--!”

Cumming _was_ the intention. Godhead wrapped his lips around Rich’s clit, his fingers taking their place penetrating him as he worked at getting him off. Rich was singing so melodic, those personal praises falling into directionless vulgar babbling, rocking back as much as he could into Godhead’s mouth.

“Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck--” 

Oh, here it comes. He sucked harder, pushed deeper, concentrating.

“-- _fuckfuckfuckfuck_ \--”

Godhead grabbed his right hip, the one attached to his free leg, and held him in place.

“-- **_fuckfuckfuckfuck_ **\--”

His fingers pulled back, his mouth opening wider.

“-- **_FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK_ **\--

Just a bit more.

“-- **_GODHEAD!_ **”

A rush of cum and near sobbing. Liquid poured like warm honey into Godhead’s mouth, the spasms of the cunt itself almost as beautiful as this taste. Rich wailed and jerked, the hand keeping him all that stopped him from throwing himself around violently in his post-orgasm pleasure.

_Perfection._

It took a few more minutes of groaning until Rich finally went slack, head hanging, arms still stretched wide above him, gasping. “F… fuck…”

Godhead pulled off him with a wet _pop! sound_ , standing. He looped to his side again, turning his head to shove his tongue down Rich’s throat, three different substances mixing together. Rich whimpered at being made to drink himself down, but he looked at Godhead with so much _adoration_ when pulled away again, a single strand of saliva connected between them.

“You’re a good boy, Richard.”

“ _Oh,_ ” he whispered, and Godhead could see his eyes tearing up again. He didn’t have the same alarm this time, wiping them away with him, ah, ‘clean’ thumb. “I l-love…”

The L-word again. Godhead kissed his forehead before he could finish that sentence. “Can you be a _strong_ boy and let me get us both off? I know that was a lot, but won’t a second one just feel so--”

“Y _es_ ,” Rich breathed, not even attempting to hide his excitement. “Holy f-fuck, _yes, ABSOLUTELY._ ”

It caught Godhead off-guard. He laughed, as Rich wiggled again, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Oh, um. Please.”

“No no, that’s good.” Godhead stepped behind him, undoing his belt; he squeezed his cock through his briefs as he lowered the zipper. “You’ve made me very happy tonight, Richard. I’ve had a lot of fun.”

He could hear Rich’s purr at the affection, and then again at the way Godhead massaged the tied thigh. He leaned forward, kissing between Rich’s shoulder blades as he pulled himself free.

The river of Rich’s cum left his cunt dripping and hot as Godhead’s cock slid along the outside. When he looked down, aiming his cock right at the edge of his sex, the inky darkness of the room left blacked-out shadows between strips of color.

Gorgeous.

Simply, stunningly gorgeous.

“Are you ready for me, _Sunshine?_ ”

“Nn… ye--”

“ _Good._ ”

And then he slammed forward.

“ _Ah!_ ” Rich body swang forward with the force of his cock, toes grazing the floor, as Godhead’s cock popped inside him. He was grabbed, pushed further, only to be shot backward. “ _AH!_ ”

Godhead hissed, eyes closed. “Fuck. How are you still so _tight?_ ”

The pleasure was… unreal. Truly, completely, _absolutely_ unreal. Rich’s small size translating gracefully into an organic onahole, as if he was created in a lab _purely_ to be screwed on a cock. Considering Godhead’s purpose _is_ manufactured, it was hard to imagine any living being evolving to be this perfectly ‘ _one size fits all’_. He gritted his teeth, leaning forward to grab both of Rich’s breasts and squeezing them as he pistoned his hips; biting his shoulder, he listened to overwhelmed moaning interrupted again and again as the air was knocked out of him. 

He opened his eyes again, looking across a sky of freckles and scars, now marred with a slow trickle of blood along teeth marks. The sight made him moan, twisting and kneading at nipples desperately as he soaked in every inch in front of him.

“-- _Richard_ ,” he panted, voice airy. “I really wasn’t lying about seeing you as a man. I’m not fucking anyone but my _boyfriend_.”

“Nn!” Rich squeaked, the force of Godhead’s thrusts stopping any coherent response. “Ah-hhh!”

Letting go of chest meat, his hand found Rich’s navel, feeling himself bulging the skin again and again in a perfect rhythm. He swirled his fingers along his soft stomach area, all over the curve of abs and associated muscle, to the small bit of fatty tissue and quivering flesh being fucked senseless.

He bit the other shoulder ( _just_ as sharply) one last time, then went back to towering over him. His hands were at Rich’s waist, as he groaned, low, feeling the final burst of pleasure looming.

\-- **you can’t finish without reassuring him**.

Oh. _Right_. 

He wants to make Rich feel good. Not just sexually, not just momentarily. His eyes fluttered down, looking at the way their sweat glittered together the closer to the lamp they were. “I… ahh, fuck, I… Richard, I adore you.”

His heart, stomach, and head throbbed at once. He dug his nails (and everything else) in. 

“I know. I know that I’m--well, that I’m very-- _shit,_ you feel so _good_.” Artificial or not, his breath came in labored with the activity and emotion. “-- _I’m very callous_ , and an asshole, and a bastard, and--I’m cold, I’m a cold person, so it’s not very… this, Richard, this is how I have to show my--”

Fuck; he growls, face burning bright red, embarrassment welling up along the swell of something _else_ \--

 _Shit._

Shit, he can’t last long like this.

He doesn’t want this to end. This beautiful scene, this true masterpiece--Rich’s body, mind, soul, tied up in his spider web, a dangling display of beauty.

Stunning.

_Lovely._

Oh. He has to say it. He has to let him _know_.

“-- _Sweetie_ ,” he grunted, spread his legs wider, and staved off orgasm from just a moment, clenching himself as he slowed his speed. “I need you to understand something. Acknowledge me.”

“Ah...” Rich murmured, head down with exhaustion. He picked it up again, looking back. Saliva was running down his cheek, and it was likely he could barely even see Godhead in his delirium. “Y-yes..?”

“You matter.”

Deep breath.

“To me. You matter to me, not just as a standard human with standard worth. You mean so… God _damn_ it, vocalizing is so--fuck, _you’re an important person in my life_.” 

Rich’s eyes lit up with understanding, locking with his for one still moment.

When he looked away to whimper with happiness, Godhead couldn’t help himself. His speed picked up again, frantic and overjoyed

“You’re so good--such a good boy--such a good, _pretty_ boy--” each word was punctured with another thrust, “--you’re a living--breathing--work of _art,_ and I-- _fuck_ \--you’re so-- _so_ \--”

Rich’s voice whimpered in from a distance, the last vestiges of his doubt. “... b-but I’m not--”

“Yes. _Yes_. **_Yes,_ **you are, Richard, I chose _you_ because I want _you_ here with **me**.” He could hear Rich’s breath catching and knew tears were forming. “It’s _only_ me and you right now. _You’re all I want._ ”

Rich sobbed out. His arms jerked as if he tried to cover it, forgetting his hands were still restrained. “ _How?_ ”

“Because I--”

He found Rich’s cunt with his hand once more, with fingers wrapping around and stroking his clit.

“--I--”

He fell forward, carefully to keep his weight on his feet as he humped him frantically, cheek against his shoulder and his eyes squeezing shut. This was hard for him, but oh, was it worth it.

“-- **_love you, Richard Goranski._ **”

The room went white, the light and form as their bodies an explosion as their minds melted together in one beautiful display.

**Author's Note:**

> you ever just love a polyship so much that you write nearly 5k of two of them being In Love when their particular dynamic isn't even your second (comparably) 'favorite' focus? 
> 
> anyway, holla @ tumblr (full-course-identity), dreamwidth (same name), or twitter (octipii)


End file.
